


lost shaker of salt

by templeofshame



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, POV First Person, specifically margaritas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23210101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeofshame/pseuds/templeofshame
Summary: Dan reviews margaritas he has known.Inspired byhis (later) margarita blog
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 42
Collections: phandomficfests: escape from reality





	1. Josh's Basement

Spoiler alert, you can’t get a decent margarita in Wokingham.

Not that it really counts when you’re in Josh’s basement, trying to have any scrap of faith that Todd actually knows how to make one. But even people who aren’t lucky if they get served in Wokingham would just go to Chiquitos in Camberley, it’s not like it’s that far. 

but it’s a fucking Tuesday night and no one wants to drive, but Todd said we have to have margaritas for cinco de mayo. which might be a thing if you’re American, or Mexican I guess that’s the point, but when you’re in sixth form it’s just any excuse to get drunk is a good one. A levels are coming up, and then everyone’s gonna fuck off to different unis and leave me here with my _parents_ , so sure, I’m all for getting drunk. But apparently we’re supposed to pretend Todd knows how to make margaritas. Like, who the fuck even is Todd? When did Josh become friends with Todd?

Anyway, the fucking margarita. Might be a generous term, tbh. It’s just like, you could take two minutes on YouTube and make a better one. I don’t think it ever saw a lime. The salt was globbing down the side more than on the rim. There was tequila involved, though, so I guess that’s all we’re supposed to care about. 

Josh did eventually find some margarita glasses but then people wanted to do the whole body shot thing, which, that’s not a fucking margarita. Whatever. It’s not like I was gonna do that anyway. I just wanted to drink a margarita, okay, and think about how this kind of shit used to be more fun.

‘Cause that’s the thing, these people got me through some shit. Not Todd, who the fuck is Todd, but Chaz was there, lost in some girl’s collar bone. Pretty clear my collar bones were going home dry. Andy was around somewhere. The other Dan had one of the other margarita glasses and was just sort of standing there with it. Maybe thinking of how to get out of having to drink it.

Maybe if the margarita had been halfway decent, someday I could look back and miss this, the same way I miss dumb drunken nights when life was just as shit before. But nah. ★1/10★ is more than Todd’s “margarita” deserves. Just don’t try to get a margarita in Wokingham. If you can’t get as far as Camberley, stay home.


	2. Blackpool

Sometimes you just need a drink. Things are frantic and stressful and out of your control, but at least you can get out of Wokingham — just not as far as you wanted — and find a decent margarita. Even in a shithole like Blackpool (which doesn’t have a Chiquitos, btw). Honestly, it might be a situation where anything tastes good when you’re desperate enough. But in that moment, it was pretty fucking great.

I _should_ be reviewing an amazing margarita in Portugal. I did the research. There are places, and I should be there drinking one. Someday I will have my mind blown by a Portuguese margarita, damnit. I will fight a volcano for it if I have to. But tonight it’s making the best of where we are, and probably if the margarita had been shit, my head would have exploded in the violent, messy way.

By the time we got settled and made it to a bar, I just wanted to a) sit down somewhere that wasn’t moving, and b) put everything in my face. Even with my Blackpool-level low expectations. I ordered the raspberry margarita without even looking at all the options. Phil wanted to try it too, so I figured, if it was awful we could just add it to the list of reasons to hate Blackpool. I could still get tipsy off somewhere where people don’t know us. (Not that you guys aren't great but... I'd rather tell you about my tipsy self than run into you outside a bar.)

But it was nice. The raspberry flavour felt real, not too syrupy, and not overpowering. It wasn’t Portugal. But I still got a well-balanced cocktail, reasonably priced, with a sea view and… Just a lovely night, really. I could stop and enjoy it, let the tequila do its thing, and forget that I don’t want to be here. What more can you ask? I’m gonna say ★7/10★ because I don’t really trust my own judgment. But it felt better than that. It felt like the start of something to look forward to, like Blackpool might redeem itself yet.

Sorry if it’s more entertaining to read a rant. At the end of the day, I love margaritas, so I can’t shit on them all.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](https://templeofshame.tumblr.com/post/612989792715784192/lost-shaker-of-salt-dan-reviews-margaritas-he-has) and teach me about margaritas


End file.
